Four Celsius

by Edward Harsen

Bole-mate of grey rabbits,
red maple root fretter:
under the ground runs Jack o’the Green.
He told me the tips of twigs
and whistled me a steam air
over frozen dark moss.

He danced a single jig of snow
letting go, a treble jig for ice flow.
I huddled and huffed blue belief,
I hunkered yes, shuddered
And shivered please, Jack,
Scuttle frost, smuggle me Spring.

©Edward Harsen 2012

2 thoughts on “Four Celsius by Edward Harsen

  1. “Scuttle frost, smuggle me spring.” I am so grateful to have spent a winter in New England and even more thankful for this absolutely incredible poet; the internal rhythm and breathtaking images are as fresh and crisp as the first gasp of wintry air after the snowstorm and I can only read and re-read with pure pleasure the artistic stylings of this brilliant poet. Edward Harsen expresses himself so eloquently; as many people are pedestrians with words, just walking…he dances across the page. Just as he waits for Spring after a New England winter, I anticipate his next poetic waltz. Thank you.~~~~~~~~~~


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